The Flyer (33 page)

“I will not.”

“Helen, is this the way you intend to live your life? Giving yourself to every man who looks at you? You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“I’m … I’m not ashamed, Mother. I love Paul, and he loves me.”

“Love,” the old bat snorted. “Love is hardly the question here—”

“Priscilla, will you please shut up!” Byron stormed into the room and slammed a book onto the table to punctuate his harshly spoken words.

Helen’s mother turned on her husband with venom spewing from every pore. “What did you say to me?”

“I said, ‘Shut up.’ You have been haranguing the child for two years. Enough is enough.”

“You’ve never talked to me like this, Byron. What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me? Perhaps living with a hypocrite for so long has addled my wits a little, but I wouldn’t say there is anything wrong with me.”

“Stop this at once, Byron. Go back to your book, and let me handle this.”

“Oh, you’ve handled things, haven’t you? For two years you’ve battered our daughter to the point she had to leave the damn country. You’ve humiliated her with our friends and hers. You’ve turned what could have been a discreet mistake into a source of public ridicule, when you could have shut your mouth and let the whole affair blow over after Helen left the country.”

“I … I,” she sputtered.

Byron advanced on her, his jowls trembling beneath his rage. “And
you
could have been discreet, Priscilla. Do you know how I know you could have been discreet? Because I’ve seen it, firsthand. Did you truly believe you could keep your secrets forever?”

“What are you talking about?” Priscilla stepped backward, almost tripping over the center table before catching herself.

“You and Stephen Buckwell. That’s what I’m talking about. All those society luncheons? Ha! If anyone is the talk of San Francisco because of her inappropriate behavior, it’s you, my dear, not our daughter.”

“What?” Helen choked.

“Oh yes. Your mother has been having an affair with my partner for quite some time now. I’ve let it slide because of the scandal a divorce would cause. And I’ll admit to a little satisfaction knowing that being married to me makes her positively miserable!” He laughed. “Evil of me, I know.”

“Daddy!” Helen’s cheeks turned red, and she glanced at the floor.

Paul stepped aside when her father approached. The much-older doctor took her shoulders, and she raised her gaze to meet his.

“Helen. I’m sorry. I never should have let her badger you all those months. I came here, not to drag you home like your mother insisted. No, I came to apologize and beg you to come back. I’ll open my practice to you, full partners. I’ll be needing one when I get back,” he offered, smiling. “I hope you can forgive me and come home, where you belong. You and whomever else might come along.”

Paul’s heart leapt into his throat. The look on Helen’s face was so full of hope, he could barely breathe. Everything she’d ever wanted had been offered to her on a silver plate. A medical practice, a partnership with her father. Acceptance. A full life of privilege.

What could he give her? Dust, and more dust. A township where she felt inclined to change who she was to fit in. She was a modern woman, of a modern age. Her thoughts, her ideals, her very being was a part of that age. Western Australia was decades behind the rest of the world as far as attitudes and customs were concerned. She’d been living out of her own time for months.

She needed to dance, to drive a car fast and drink a whisky slow. He couldn’t give her any of that. How long before her spirit withered and died a horrible, outback death?

After a moment, she looked at him. The hope in her eyes said it all. She wanted to go home. She’d chosen to give in to him only because her other choice had been loneliness. Could he blame her?

No. She’d done what men had been doing for centuries. Take what love one could. He already missed her.

“You should go, love. Offers like this don’t come along every day. Even an old bushranger like me knows that.”

She frowned, then looked away.

“Well, dear? What do you say?”

Helen nodded. “Thank you, Daddy.”

“Good!” he bellowed. “I knew I could count on you. I’ve booked us all passage home for three days out. That should give you enough time to complete your cases here.”

“Three days?” Helen asked. “But what about Doc? He’ll need to find a replacement.”

“Nonsense. I’m sure you were mostly just his nurse, and you’ve given him that black woman to help him out.”

Paul wanted to throttle the old man. A nurse? His daughter was as fine a doctor as old Doc, and probably a better doctor than her father. He was about to open his mouth and give the old bastard a piece of his mind when Helen spoke.

“I suppose you’re right.”

She was obviously set on getting the hell out of there. Steam heated his blood. But if that’s the game she was willing to play, who was he to call her on it? Only the man who loved her, that’s all. What rot.

“Well, I have a run to make.” Paul cleared his throat. “I’d like to say it was nice to meet you all, but—”

“Paul?” Helen’s voice caught on his name as though she couldn’t bear to say it.

“No worries, love. It’s been fun, hasn’t it? I’ll be off now, and if I don’t see you before you sail, have a right nice time of it, will you?”

He couldn’t leave the flat quickly enough. He should have prepared himself for the eventuality that she would leave him. Why it came as such a surprise, he couldn’t say. Maybe it was because she’d fought so hard to keep him away in the beginning.

It didn’t matter. She owned a piece of his soul, and that was something he’d have to live with for the rest of his life.

Crikey. He already missed her.

“I just heard,” Nanara announced, flying into the room with her new uniform flowing about her booted ankles. “Tell me it’s not true!”

Helen sucked in a warm breath and closed her eyes. “It’s true, I’m afraid.” She opened her eyes, pulled the last of her dresses from the wardrobe, and turned around to face the bed. Her valise was nearly full. All that was left to pack were her recordings and a few photographs.

“You can’t simply leave. This is your home.”

“No, not really. I mean, it could have been. But truthfully, I’ve only been here a few months, and my family is in San Francisco.”

“Paul isn’t,” Nanara added sternly, her hands fisted on her hips. “You can’t tell me you want to leave him.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course, it does. Are you cracked?”

She shoved her dress into the valise and fastened it closed. She wasn’t leaving for a few days, but she had no intention of wearing anything other than her very sedate dress until then. She’d be lucky if she even climbed out of bed tomorrow morning.

Paul had left her.

He hadn’t fought for her to stay with him. He’d heard her father’s offer and leapt on the chance to be rid of her. Just like that.

Just like she’d known he would.

“I’m not cracked, Nanara. It simply isn’t working out, that’s all.”

“It was working out just bloody fine before your oldies showed up, I reckon.”

“Nanara, please,” she whispered.

“All right. I’ll leave off. But mind what I say. Sometimes you have to put aside what others think and do what you want.”

“I’ve tried.” Helen sat on the edge of her bed, her entire world shifting away in a series of tiny quakes and shudders. She would not cry. She would not cry, and she would not beg.

Never again.

Nanara sat next to her, taking Helen’s hand inside her much darker one. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Of course, we are.”

“Then listen to me. I never thought I could be so happy. I worked on the station because I refused to live in the filth of a reservation and the Winters are nice people. But that’s not what I wanted. I came here when you asked me to because there was nothing left for me in the clans.” She lowered her head, pulling at a loose thread on her new dress. “But something happened.”

“What?”

Her face lifted, shining with a bright smile that could only come from a soul in love. Djuru …

“Djuru and I have been talking again, among other things,” she giggled. “He’s more wonderful than I ever imagined now that I’ve been able to get to know him. And I think he likes me, too.”

“That’s wonderful, Nanara.” It wasn’t fair, but it was wonderful. She was happy for Nanara. Honestly.

But, of course, her own heart was breaking all over again. This time, the pieces were so small, she doubted she could ever find them all, much less put them back together. So much had happened, it made her head spin. Falling in love, her heart breaking all over again. Even telling her parents about her miscarriage had been doubly painful when her father had looked more relieved than concerned.

“You don’t understand. I’m saying that you and Paul should be together. Don’t let him leave when you know you love him. Fight for him. Make him see you. You can’t simply run off and leave things like this.”

A roar sounded through her bedroom window. A familiar roar—one that could only come from one source. Helen rushed to the window with Nanara directly behind her.

Paul’s bright yellow plane, shimmering in the sunlight, flew overhead. The wings reflected the light like a diamond, brilliant and clean. Slowly, the plane turned and banked to the south. Toward Perth.

“It’s too late, Nanara. I’ve lost him.”

17

W
ould you like another cup of tea, Mother?” Helen lifted the pot in anticipation of her mother’s reply.

“Thank you, dear.”

They were sitting in the parlor. Soft music came from the phonograph, one of the few recordings her mother approved of, while Priscilla plied a needle and colored thread through a sampler. Helen had been reading a book, but the words blurred and ran together so that she couldn’t even remember the last chapter.

Was this all she had to look forward to? She had already decided that she would no longer practice medicine when she returned to San Francisco. Her father might have promised her a position in his practice, but she wasn’t under any misconception that his partners would agree. The local hospital had already denied her application before she’d left San Francisco.

Everyone who mattered knew about her history. They knew her shame, and she couldn’t blame them for their caution. Why would any patient trust her with their life when she had such a lack of good judgment with her own?

So that left only one option for her. She would live a shadow of her mother’s life. Her father’s wealth would gain her access to the ladies’ clubs and society. She would play hostess to various events alongside her mother, but no one would really accept her. She had shamed herself and her family. She had committed the greatest of all sins, as far as they were concerned. She’d become pregnant and, as far as they all knew, delivered an illegitimate child. They didn’t know the child hadn’t survived, that the pregnancy had ended on the voyage from California.

And if they did, they would all assume she had ended the pregnancy on purpose.

It didn’t matter anymore. Paul no longer wanted her. His was the only opinion that mattered, and before she’d been given the chance to explain, he had made his choice. She wasn’t good enough.